


Blues

by cosmictrap



Category: New Girl
Genre: Alternate Reality, Drama, Season 5 AU, angst-ish
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-19
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2019-04-25 01:00:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14367510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmictrap/pseuds/cosmictrap
Summary: Jess returns from jury duty one afternoon to find a hungover Nick in bed with Reagan. Less than ten minutes later, she announces that she is moving out of the loft and claims that she had been thinking about it for a while. Though Jess is still friendly with Nick and she doesn't bring up the afternoon at all, seemingly unaffected by it, Nick feels a shift in their relationship, for the worse. She builds a wall around herself and is distant from Nick, who finds himself desperate to get her to open up to him again.





	1. Ultramarine Blue

Nick woke up to the sound of mild chatter. Forcing his eyes open, he blinked at the familiar surroundings, but he was not in his room. He raised his head off the pillow, trying to tune out the dim voices he could hear from outside, and realized with a jolt that he was naked in Jess's bed. With a small groan, he clutched his aching head and tried to sit up when he felt an unfamiliar hand draped around his waist. At the back of his mind, he could hear a reprimanding voice, tinged with slight disgust, berating him for what he had done. He started to feel the beginnings of regret seeping into him already. As he scrunched his eyes shut and massaged his forehead, he had flashes of last night skip through his mind.

Getting spectacularly drunk during True American and kissing a drunk Reagan as his friends stood in an uncomfortable silence. He pushed away the image of a white-faced Cece staring at him with pursed lips as he let Reagan pull him into her room… no, _Jess's_ room. Repressing a groan, he tried to slip out from under Reagan's hand when the bedroom door clicked open and Jess walked in with an unsuspecting smile.

_Fuck._  

The regret and self-hatred that paralyzed him in that moment was nothing compared to the numerous times he'd felt those two feelings before. Not knowing what to do or say, feeling like an idiot, he sank a little further into _her_ bed. They hadn't planned it, and wasn’t sure how the whole thing began in the first place; he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. Nick didn’t know what had gotten into him, alcohol aside. 

In hindsight, he would wonder if he'd done it to just prove a point to everyone, or if it had been repressed spite and pettiness that he decided to act on in a drunken haze. 

Whatever the reason had been, it didn't seem to matter as he watched Jess standing in the doorway. She stood ramrod straight, the smile slipping off her face as she blinked, in confusion at first.  

Almost as if in slow motion, he watched realization cross her face, painfully aware of the way her lower lip was starting to tremble. His throat dried up as he saw the tears fill her eyes and she closed them tightly, bowing her head before taking deep calming breaths.

_Fuck. Fuck._

"Jess..." he started hoarsely, but she shook her head, holding on tightly to the suitcase, knuckles white, and when she finally opened her eyes to look at him, he felt his heart drop.

She stared at him wordlessly for a few seconds before, to his horror, giving him a small smile. 

“Um, sorry,” she muttered, stepping away from the door, she closed it behind her softly. 

Leaping out of bed, he ignored Reagan who was starting to stir and calling Jess's name, he looked around, trying to find all his clothes. He flew out of the bedroom once fully clothed, eyes searching for Jess. He spotted her suitcase, lying abandoned next to the sofa, and then his gaze fell to the table where there was one plate of unfinished breakfast next to a coffee mug that he recognised as Cece’s usual.

He left the loft, closing the door behind him with a loud thud, not caring that it was too loud. He had a feeling as to where he'd find her, and also knew that it would be better to leave her alone rather than join her in Cece's company. But in that moment, he couldn't really think straight. Almost like a mantra, his mind only had space to chant the same word over and over again.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck._

As he took the stairs to the rooftop, he had a sinking feeling that the image of Jess standing in the doorway, with a slipping smile, would be burned into his brain forever. He burst onto the roof, throwing the door wide open as he squinted in the sunlight. Jess and Cece were sitting in the lawn chairs, the former's back facing him. Cece was leaning forward in her chair, anxiously looking at Jess as she was rapidly murmuring something. Whatever she was saying, she stopped mid-sentence as she caught sight of Nick. 

She stared at him till Jess looked over her shoulder and saw Nick stepping towards them slowly.

He thought he saw a flicker of panic on her face, but only fleetingly. She turned away wordlessly, and he hastened his footsteps, finally coming to a still in front of her. When she looked at him, he felt like his heart had stopped. He had seen the blue in her eyes take on various shades before, but he'd never seen them so ice cold, looking at him with an unnerving calm. She'd pasted on the ghost of a smile on her face, as she looked at him, questioningly.

"Jess, I'm really sorry and-"

"Don't worry about it, Nick," she said, waving her hand at him, dismissive of his apology before he'd even completed, "You have nothing to apologize for. I'm happy for you. Glad that we’re… _both_ moving on."

Nick swallowed, looking at Cece for any form of help, but she simply stared at him blankly, making clear where her loyalties lay. Sighing, he looked at Jess again, her face still a carefully crafted mask of calm. 

"It's just that... I-It was in your-"

"It doesn't matter anymore, Nick, really," she laughed humourlessly. "Being away for so long has given me time to think. I was going to do this later in the evening with everyone around, but I might as well tell you now..."

She set her glass of wine on the table carefully, and turned to him, looking him square in the face. The only giveaway of Jess not really feeling the way she was trying to seem was her twiddling thumbs in her lap.

"Tell me what...?" he asked, slowly, apprehensive of what she was going to say. It possibly couldn't be anything good.

She said nothing for a moment and just as he thought her eyes were softening again, her gaze quickly flickered to the floor, almost like she was taking a second to compose herself. 

"I'm moving out. So…. your bed, my bed, the couch. It doesn’t matter, Nick. Relax, will you,” she said, adding a chuckle in the end. He might just have believed the genuinity of the smile on her face if it weren’t for her eyes - the coldest blue he’d ever seen, and he knew that there was going to be a major shift in their relationship.


	2. Prussian Blue

Nick could barely remember what Reagan even looked like after she had moved out the morning after Jess's arrival. Jess had moved out two days later, wasting no time in relentlessly packing her things. She hadn't ignored him;  _he_  had ignored her out of fear that  _she_  might. He'd stayed locked up in his room the two days that the guys were helping her pack, stepping out to go to the bar only when the loft fell silent.

He'd stayed in his room even the day she'd moved out, leaving her a message that he would miss her and lied that he'd got caught up at work. She'd merely said that it was okay that he couldn't make it, a smiley face pasted on in the end; it was the smiley face that didn't have red cheeks - a mere small smile pasted on its face. He was probably reading too much into her use of the smiley; but then again, maybe he was not. He just didn't know anymore.

That had been the only communication he'd had with her since  _tha_ t afternoon. He was completely taken aback that she'd even replied to him. He wasn't sure why that made him uneasy, but it did. Maybe it was because that was not the reaction that he'd been expecting. He had been, in all frankness, expecting something more of an aggressive reaction on her part, but she had hardly broached the subject. It wasn't like Jess to not talk about something that upset her; maybe she wasn't even upset about it. That was probably it, and he wasn't sure why that bothered him so much.

He'd almost believe that, convince himself of that, but then he'd remember the way she'd looked at him on the roof that day. Her eyes had been the most devoid of emotion he'd ever seen them. He remembered how unnerved he had felt when she had smiled at him; it hadn't even been a smile. Not a Jessica Day smile, at least.

When he was sure that everyone had left, he flew out of his room to Jess's. What used to be Jess's. The empty room made him sick to the stomach. He walked across the barren floor towards the window. When he peeped out, he could see the moving truck. Jess stood in front of it, surrounded by everyone else. Schmidt was sullenly standing a little apart from them, still not having completely forgiven Jess for moving out. And he had been extremely curt with Nick after she'd announced that evening that she was moving out.

_"Nicholas, that was way out of line. How could you, man?"_

_"I was... sort of drunk."_

_"That's your excuse for everything!" he snapped._

_Nick flinched,_ _but didn't argue._

That was exactly what he had said two years ago when Schmidt had asked what had possessed him to tell Jess that he wanted to be a truck driver in space.

He hadn't seen or met anyone after that night, but he knew everyone was upset with him as well because none of them had dropped by the bar since then. He wanted to wallow in self-pity, and he was aware that he was doing it. It wasn't fair, he had told himself. He was an adult and his friends shouldn't be pissed at decisions that he'd made. But he also knew what his friends did; he knew exactly how he would've reacted if he'd come home to find Jess in his bed with some other guy. He tried not to think about that too much.

He watched from the window as Jess hugged Winston, who was holding Furguson in his arms. She gave Furg a little pat on the head and smiled at Cece. Nick supposed that they would continue to meet each other, and Cece was obviously not too upset about her move. Then, Jess walked over to Schmidt, tugging at his crossed arms for a few seconds while saying something Nick couldn't quite hear. He saw Schmidt turn to Jess to shake his head at her a few times before he threw his hands up in the air in defeat and enveloped her in a hug.

When Winston got into the truck, Nick could tell that Winston would be driving them to wherever Jess had moved and he realized with shock that he had absolutely no idea where she was moving. The thought of not knowing where Jess was going to be terrified him a little and he had to take a few deep breaths to calm himself down, because really, there was no reason to panic, right? No big deal. A friend moving out.

_Because of something you did._

Jess followed Winston and just as she was getting into the truck, she looked up. Nick's heart stopped as he stood there frozen, blinking down at her. He thought he saw her lips tug into a smile, the same ingenuine one he couldn't recognize anymore. Reluctantly, he lifted his hand and waved it once. She repeated the gesture and everyone followed her gaze and looked up at the same time. Feeling uncomfortable, he ducked and sat under the window. Few seconds later, he heard the truck drive away.

He sat there for a few minutes, sitting very still, staring at the empty room. He looked up when the door opened and Schmidt walked in, followed by Cece. Nick had to suppress a groan because he could feel the telling off he was about to get, and quite frankly, definitely deserved.

"Oh hello there, do I know you?" asked Schmidt sarcastically and turned to Cece. "Cecelia, look, we have a stranger in our house."

Cece said nothing, merely pursing her lips.

"Schmidt…" started Nick.

"He knows me!" Schmidt gasped dramatically. "Sir, how do you know me?"

Nick sighed. "Look, Schmidt, I'm sorry-"

"Oh my god, Nick!? Is that you?" said Schmidt, his hand theatrically clutching at his heart. "Cece, remember I told you about my best friend who's been missing for two days now? This is him."

Then he turns to Nick angrily. "Turns out the dumbass had just locked himself up in his dumbass room and was just being the dumbest boy in school. Again."

Cece lay a calming hand on his shoulder and turned to Nick. Taking a deep breath and almost emotionlessly, she told Nick, "Jess wanted you to know that her moving out has nothing to do with what you did. She understands whatever happened, but she had been planning to move out for a couple of months and she was going to tell everyone the day she'd come back."

That should've relieved him, hearing it from her best friend, but the icy tone only made Nick's heart sink further. He had told himself repeatedly that Jess had made this decision independent of his actions, but the part of him that felt uneasy at her not being upset, told him otherwise. That didn't make him feel any better because that meant he was responsible for driving her out of his life. But then again, she had said that she'd been considering moving out for quite some time. How else would she have gotten an apartment at such a short notice? She'd have to be looking them up for quite some time. Right?

 _Even so, what you did, sealed the deal and you know it,_ the nasty voice in his head told him.

Nick swallowed and cleared his throat. "Um, yeah she mentioned that. That day."

Cece shrugged. "She wanted to tell you anyway. She knew you'd beat yourself up about it, and just wanted  _me_  to tell you too. You know, Jess; she simply cares too much for her own good," she finished harshly.

With that she walked out, not waiting for a response and Schmidt sighed deeply after Cece shut the door behind her. He pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head before pacing the empty room for a few seconds.

"You messed up good this time, man," said Schmidt, shaking his head.

"I know, Schmidt," Nick muttered. "Did um, Jess say anything to you?"

"She didn't bring it up, not once," said Schmidt shaking his head. "That in itself-"

"-Says a lot," finished Nick, shaking his head. "Schmidt, I don't know what to do."

"Give her space, Nick," said Schmidt, almost pityingly. "I don't think there's anything you can do."

"Yeah," said Nick reluctantly. "That won't be a problem given how I don't even know where she lives."

Schmidt looked at him incredulously. "Nick, that's not that only space-giving I'm talking about," he said pointedly. "Jess is going to be around here all the time and-"

"What, why?" asked Nick, surprised and confused at the same time.

"She's Cece's Maid of Honour, Nicholas," said Schmidt, the tone of are-you-stupid-or-are-you-stupid creeping into his voice.

Nick's eyes widened in realization. "And I'm the Best Man…" he said slowly.

Schmidt nodded.

Though a part of him was extremely relieved that he hadn't  _really_  seen the last of her, there was another part of him that caused an uncomfortable feeling to settle in his gut. He'd thought that she'd avoid him at all costs, now that she'd moved out. True, the reply he'd gotten for his white lie of a text should've been indicative; but texting was one thing, while actually agreeing to be around him? Was she going to avoid him while she was here? And why was he feeling so uneasy at the clear indication of her not being upset? He should be relieved, happy even. But he didn't feel it. Not even a little bit.

_Am I actually upset that she isn't?_

Almost as if reading his mind, Schmidt said quietly, "I know it doesn't seem like there's anything to worry about, but she's been scary calm about... the thing."

Nick looked up at Schmidt curiously, the question clear in his eyes. Schmidt worrying about the same meant that he was definitely not imagining it, but it also meant that there was going to be a lot of unspoken emotions bubbling right under the surface.

That had done neither Jess nor Nick any good in the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aside from all the smut I've been writing, this is the most experimental I've been in terms of writing NG fics. Content-wise. This fic will have a lot to do with exploring headspaces and the main conflict aside from the obvious that Nick has to make up for, would be Nick and Jess themselves, know what I mean? Uhhhhh. Hopefully, you understand this and this doesn't suck too much, oops.


	3. Teal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry about the pace :( I told you that I wanted it to a psyche thing.

In Jess's living room, pinned to a mannequin, was Cece's wedding dress. Jess has already given both Cece and Winston a good telling off for getting drunk while out shopping, but she's confident that the dress can become something beautiful. This evening, unanimously, both Cece and Jess decide that using gold and silver embroidery on the skirt of the dress would be the best option. Cece promises to ask her grandmother, much more open to her marriage with Schmidt than Mrs. P had been, for some traditional Indian patterns that Jess could use as reference.

Right before she leaves, Cece pauses in the doorway to ask Jess, "How are you holding up?"

"Fine," she says.

Cece doesn't buy it, but decides not to push Jess. She cannot but imagine what Jess is going through because she's never hesitated to talk to Cece about anything. Cece knows she needs her space, so she lets her be. Instead, she pulls her into a hug, startling her a little, but she's hugging her back.

"I'm here for you, babe," she says softly, before drawing back and giving her a small smile.

Jess feels her eyes tear up slightly, and she gives her best friend a watery smile. "I know."

After Cece leaves, Jess is alone at home and she turns on some music; the loud silence filled her head with thoughts she didn't want to think about. Truth be told, she's a little sad that the wedding dress dilemma had been resolved, because it had been easier to fill her mind with thoughts of white gossamer and lace, ribbons and threads.

It still feels strange, living by herself when for almost five years, she'd been living in a house filled with life and just… people. The only advantage she currently feels she has now is that she could leave her things all over the place and no one would care, and that in the solitude of her own home, she could drop the mask she's been pasting on for a while.

She collapses on the couch, legs dangling off the edge and her forearm planted across her forehead. She stares at the ceiling for a little while, willing her mind to focus on the cracks and chapped paint. She traces the shadows formed by the street light filtering through the window, until the ceiling becomes too boring, and the uninvited images that she wishes she could just burn from her mind, come flooding.

She has mostly been successful in keeping those images at bay, but there were times like this when her mind was too exhausted to be preoccupied with anything else.

She sees a disoriented Nick in her bed, naked, half covered by the blanket. Behind him, she could barely just make out the outline of a dark-haired woman.

Her first instinct had been to scream at him.  _"How could you do this to me!?"_

But what had he done, really? And to her?

They were all adults, free to do what they wanted. Besides, she had been able to tell that he was drunk; his eyes had been rimmed red, completely out of focus. Cece had told her that morning about having played True American too. So he had been drunk when he'd done that so she had no reason to be angry with him really.

What was the big deal?

Right?

Despite that, what she had felt at that moment was ten times worse than the afternoon she'd walked in on Spencer, and she hated herself for it. At least she'd been dating Spencer; she hadn't been dating Nick. So why was she feeling that way, but so much more worse? Why was she feeling like she'd been cheated on, though that was not really what it was?

So what, he'd had sex with someone else on her bed. No big deal, right?

_Right?_

_"Then why am I feeling like this!"_  she'd thought desperately as she'd quietly taken the steps to the roof, followed closely by Cece.

Her own reaction had confused her so much that she'd just had to flee, and a single thought had been running through her head on a loop when she stepped onto the roof, letting the heat of the summer sun pierce her.

_Why do I feel this way? Why do I feel this way? Why do I feel this way?_

It hadn't taken very long for her to figure that out; realizing you were in love with someone at the same moment you find the said person in bed with someone else is a crushing feeling. It becomes difficult to even look that person in the face.

She'd avoided going to the loft for sometime after that, on the pretext of having to set up her new home, a last minute favour that she'd managed to pull off with Cece's help. But after a week had passed, she had decided that she couldn't avoid him forever; it was going to be difficult, but she had to do it. The only way to the other side was through, and if she were to give her best shot at preparing for Cece and Schmidt's wedding, she had to do this. For them.

So a week later, she found herself knocking on 4D's door again and when Nick opened it, he was stunned into silence at the sight of her. She had sucked it up and waving happily at him as a form of greeting, pushed past him into the loft, not having noticed the mixed emotions on his face.

She didn't avoid him. She spoke to him as if nothing had happened.  _Because it hadn't._

The facade had become so hard to keep up, but it was necessary.

She had to, because really, did she have any reason to be angry? To be upset or hurt? Yes, her ex had slept with someone else in her bed. No big deal, right? He's an adult, and he could sleep with whoever he wanted. It was none of her business. They'd closed the door to each other long ago, and that was that. So how could she possibly justify her hurt without bringing up questions that she wasn't sure she wanted to answer?

She didn't want to be completely aloof from him either, fearing the questions that would raise. This was easier. To pretend everything was perfectly fine. To keep him at a safe distance and simply not let him in anymore, because boy, would that hurt.

Some other time, Jess might actually have just told him how she felt. But not now. Not while she knew for a fact (or so she thought) that he didn't feel the same way. Not when what she had walked into that afternoon was still burned into her mind.

What she didn't know was that everyone would've understood if she had stayed aloof and away, because everyone was equally surprised Jess's seemingly flippant behaviour except Cece. If she hadn't focused all her energy on trying to be flippant, she would've noticed the slight, but visible distance between Nick and everyone else.

But it was still difficult to be in the same room has him, a smile pasted on her face. It was difficult to even talk to him at all, but she tried it anyway because complete silence on her part would only raise more questions. She would learn - had to learn - to deal with it because eventually he would move on and find someone, and the last thing she wanted was to still be heartbroken over him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave me reviews, thanks :)


	4. Ice Blue

Jess’s room had been empty since she’d moved out nearly a month ago. Nick had insisted that they didn’t really need a new roommate, secretly nursing hope that she might move back in. Schmidt hadn’t argued because he was still upset about Jess moving out.

Nick felt like he was walking on eggshells in the loft. He felt guilty and unsure of everything. He knew the underlying disappointment emanating from Schmidt was well deserved, that Winston was _trying_ not to look at Nick any differently because irrespective of everything, they were still childhood friends and as for Cece, she wouldn’t even look at him and he knew that her restraint was only for Schmidt’s sake.

“Hey, Nick?” Jess called from the kitchen on one of her visits, a month after she’d moved out.

“Yeah?” he replied instantly, looking up from the book he was reading at the dining table, feeling his heartbeat increase just a little bit.

It was a rather strange thing that seemed he seemed to feel these days. The last few weeks, he’d felt like a packet of pressure, just walking around the loft whenever Jess was around. He wasn’t sure what it was that he was stressing out about, but it was something he felt by her mere presence.

Jess on her part spoke to him quite normally and seemed to behave perfectly soundly around him. But Nick felt that there were the subtlest of changes in her behaviour that made him nervous. Sometimes, he wondered if he was imagining it because of the guilt that seemed to consume him most of the time.

There was always at least a foot of space between them that she struggled to make sure didn’t decrease. Before she’d left for jury duty, despite being exes, they would sit side by side on the couch, barely any gap between them.

And it was the way she spoke to him that left a white hot pain in his heart. She would talk to him, but never about herself anymore. She asked after him, but didn’t press him to talk to her like she used to. She didn’t laugh at his jokes with the genuine warmth anymore. Her laughter always seemed forced around him and she had stopped looking him the eye.

And this new sort of behaviour seemed reserved just for him. Maybe he was in over his head and he was just misreading the entire thing, but that was part of what made it frustrating. He couldn’t tell if he was imagining all of it because of the nagging guilt. Maybe it was telling him that she _should_ be behaving that way with him.

He felt strangely on edge because after what he’d done, her calm was unnerving him and he wished she would just scream at him or even ignore him. The way she was around him, talking to him casually, pretending like nothing had happened, pretending like what he’d done was ‘okay’ was frustratingly despairing. He couldn’t even accuse her of behaving strangely or confront her about it, because she was talking to him quite normally. Almost.

So these days, whenever she called for him, he would find himself get nervous with anticipation, hoping that she’d _say_ something, _anything,_ that would ease his guilt even a little. Even if it meant a sound yelling at him, reprimanding him for what he’d done.

Anything.

“...Nick?” she called again.

Jumping slightly, his gaze focused on her again. She was looking up from her laptop at him, a small frown on her face. Shaking his head, wishing that for once, he could turn his thoughts off, he looked at her questioningly.

“Sorry, yeah?”

“I asked you if Bonnie is coming for the wedding?” she said, staring at him

And just like every time, his anticipation was for nothing because nowadays, every time she called him, whatever followed was almost _always_ mundane. All they spoke about these days were mundane things, and it was driving him insane. He simply didn’t want to believe that their relationship had fallen apart to become this irreparable.

“Yeah, Jess,” he sighed. “She told me last night that she’d come.”

“Nick, are you okay?” she asked, frowning slightly in concern.

“Yeah, Jess. I’m fine,” he said, clearing his throat.

“Alright,” said Jess, nodding slightly before going back to looking at her laptop. And once again, Nick felt his heart sink because Jess never ever let go of things that easily. “And can I have Mrs. Schmidt’s postal address, please? I’d like to send an official wedding invite to her too though we’ve spoken on the phone and stuff.”

“Of course,” he muttered and leaned towards the side-table to pick up a piece of paper and pencil. Scribbling down her address, he walked over to Jess and placed the piece of paper next to her. She looked up briefly from whatever she was typing and read the note.

“Great, thanks, Nick!” she said happily and went back to working.

He said nothing and after staring at her for a few seconds he quietly sat across her at the kitchen island. She tensed momentarily and her typing paused for the briefest second before she shook her head ever so slightly and continued to type.

“Jess, I’m the Best Man. Why won’t you let me help you? I mean, two heads are better than one.”

It was after Jess had begun to take up the duties of being the Maid of Honour quite seriously that Nick understood what Schmidt had meant by giving her some space. She had taken over his role of the Best Man as well and had absolutely refused taking his help with anything. She had told him that he really shouldn’t worry about being the Best Man because now that she was back, she would happily take over.

That was unlike Jess because she was always one for teamwork and preparing for celebrations _together_. He suspected it had something to do with the fact that she just didn’t want to work with him anymore but he hadn’t been sure how to bring that up.

She looked at him with a smile, the same pasted-on, ingenuine smile that seemed to be reserved just for him these days.

“Nick, I know you don’t like doing this stuff,” she said, almost mechanically. He’d offered his help so many times since then, but she’d always shot him down. “It’s fine, I can handle this.”

“You’re doing this alone, and I know you need help and-”

She chuckled in response, an almost hollow laughter. “No, Nick, really. It’s alright. I’ll do just fine. I love doing this stuff. Consider yourself one heck of a lucky Best Man because you can just kick back and… I don’t know, just relax. I got this,” she said, patting his hand lightly.

He tried to catch her eye and when he did, she just shrugged him nonchalantly, the smile still on her face as she turned back to her computer.

“Hey, Jess?”

“Hm?”

He didn’t say anything, waiting for her to look up at him. After a moment of silence, she finally looked up at him questioningly.

“Are we…” he started and immediately felt his mind go blank. What was he supposed to ask her, and _how_. She was still looking at him, eyebrows slightly raised, lips pursed. “Is everything… I don’t know… After that…”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she mumbled, looking away and back at her laptop.

And when she refused to look at him, it was the first time she had reacted to him outside of the chirpy demeanour (“demeanour”, because he _knew_ something was wrong) she was so hell bent on keeping.

“Jess…”  he said again, and she tucked her hair behind her ear, a nervous tell, before she looked at him with _that chirpy, not so real, smile_ again.

“Are we cool?” he asked, swallowing thickly.

Her smile just dropped a little bit, but she composed herself before letting out a seemingly breezy chuckle. When he quirked a brow at her, making it clear that he was expecting an actual answer, her laugh faded and she dropped her gaze back to the laptop screen.

“Yeah, Nick, we’re cool. _Cooler than we’ll ever be_ ,” she said, laughing a little again. “Why do you ask?”

Nick started to get a little frustrated, because really, was she actually going to pretend she didn’t know what he was talking about? He stared at her but she didn’t look up at him, eyes fixed on the screen.

“Because I… When you…” and he stopped because she went still and he was almost completely sure that she had stopped breathing. Her fingers were nervously drumming against the table and Nick sighed. “You know what, never mind,” he muttered.

She relaxed but didn’t say anything. He could tell that she was still tense and her eyes seemed a little shifty. But that was just it; he didn’t know what if he was imagining all that. He just couldn’t get a good read of her anymore. It was like the depth that used to be her eyes had frozen over and he couldn’t tell what was behind the surface anymore. He didn’t remember a time when he couldn’t tell what Jess was thinking and he’d never thought that day would come.

He had never felt more lost and without Jess to turn to, he felt like a blind man navigating a busy street filled with winding lanes and alleys.

“Well, alright, I’ll leave you to it, then,” said Nick defeatedly and stood up.

She merely nodded at him, flashing another smile at him before he walked away. He trudged back to his bedroom slowly and closed the door behind him. He breathed in deeply as he let himself fall on his bed and stared at the ceiling, his brain in active overdrive, thoughts racing a mile, a minute.

He couldn’t stand the undercurrent tension. He couldn’t stand not even knowing whether that tension was real or if he was just working himself up over nothing. But most importantly, he couldn’t stand the distance between them and it was driving him up the wall that he couldn't talk to her about it, because  _nothing seemed wrong._

He _had_ to talk to her about it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are y’all with me here? Do you understand what I’m trying to say, or rather what Nick is? I’m genuinely asking ‘cause I’m not sure if it’s coming across very well.


End file.
